It was dark and silent on Ridge Avenue that cold winter night. No cars drove by the large brick house on the corner, for all the drivers were at home, in the safety of their beds, preparing for the blizzard that was soon to come. The children, both elementary, junior high, and high schoolers alike, were nestled in their beds, no alarms set. They were all excited to not have to go to school the next day, and were all pleased to be able to sleep in peace. All but the twelve year old girl in the large brick house on the corner.

This girl was sitting in her room, with her light on. While her parents and sister were sleeping, she was sitting in bed weeping. The boy she loved, Jeremy, was hurting. She knew it. But there was nothing she could do. The dojo where she would see him twice a week would be closed due to the weather, and she had no way to see him and make sure he was alright. And lord, he was most certainly not alright.

Jeremy was walking the streets of his neighborhood, in the dark and in the cold. He was drinking, though being sixteen this was completely illegal. And he was angry. The girl in the large brick house on the corner knew how reckless boys, especially boys with so much power like Jeremy, could get when they were angry. He wouldn’t pick up his phone, and right when she finally got him to answer her Facebook messages, she had to go to bed, for her parents wouldn’t let her stay up past nine. So she wept, worried about his safety, his wellbeing. She knew that with how things were, he may not come home the next morning. The blizzard was about to hit, and the girl in the large brick house on the corner had no clue where Jeremy was at this point.

The girl in the large brick house on the corner heard the storm sirens go off at a little past ten, and began to weep harder as she saw the first of the flakes fall outside her window. She was terrified now, and worried about the boy who she loved so much. She couldn’t let him get hurt. She just couldn’t. She didn’t know where he was; only that he was in the neighborhood about twenty miles from where she was now. And that she had to go find him.

The girl in the large brick house on the corner went down the stairs silently, to where her long, black coat and her warm, brown gloves awaited her. She pulled these on, along with her sturdy boots, and grabbed her keys from the table. She hastily scribbled a note on a junk mail envelope and left the house, locking the door behind her, to go find the boy she loved.*

It was dark and silent on Nowlin Avenue that cold winter night. No people walked down the trails, for it was past curfew, and much to cold for that sort of thing. People were at home, sitting by the fire, drinking hot chocolate and reading Christmas tales. They were glad to be safe, and with a family that cared and would love them no matter what. All but the fifteen year old boy who was trying to keep warm.

This boy was walking along, his arms tight around himself to stay warm. While the people in the houses not even a half-mile away sat cozy, he was freezing and regretting his choice to leave. He knew that he should have apologized and taken the punishment. He knew it. But there was nothing he could do. His father would not let him back in the house after that argument, and though he should have gone to his friend’s house to keep warm, he hadn’t.

His friend lived twenty miles away, in a house in the neighborhood that the boy who was trying to keep warm called home. He had the house to himself most days, and he never turned down someone who needed a place to stay. It was known to most how to enter the basement room, which had all the necessities for a night alone, and the boy who was trying to keep warm knew that he should have gone straight there. But his friend wasn’t the first person he had thought of when he got thrown out. The boy who was trying to keep warm had done the most impractical thing, and gone to find the girl in the large brick house on the corner.

The boy who was trying to keep warm heard the storm sirens at a little past ten. He began to shiver more violently, and knew that he wasn’t likely to survive the storm if he did not find shelter soon. He knew that he needed a place to stay, but that most of all he needed to find the girl in the large brick house on the corner.

The boy who was trying to keep warm started walking faster, having made up his mind, and started up the hill that led back to the street. He tripped a few times but pushed on, gritting his teeth and shivering, to find the girl he loved.*

It was dark and silent on Oakey Avenue that cold winter night. No animals stirred in the branches of the bare trees, for most were hibernating for the remainder of the icy winter. They were curled in their burrows, sleeping peacefully until the spring sun would warm them with its golden rays. They were safe and calm. But not the girl who was still searching.

The girl was stumbling along, calling his name as loudly as she dared. While most people were snoozing in their beds or reading quietly so as not to wake their babies, she was disturbing the peace to save the life of a boy. She should go back, so as not to get caught. She knew it. But there was nothing she could do. Her mind was made up, and though she half wished to go back, she knew she couldn’t give up until she found him.

She knew that the boy she loved could be anywhere in Greendale. He could also be in Aurora, Bright, Hidden Valley, or any other city between her home and Ohio. The girl who was still searching knew that the likelihood of finding him was slim, but she hoped that her prayers would aid her in her search. She knew that going to find him was rash and unintelligent, but she didn’t care.

The girl who was still searching found her sight beginning to fail her as the flakes fell down ever faster and caught in her eyelashes. She hoped that the boy was safe, and continued to call his name as she walked much more hurriedly to where she prayed he would be.

The girl who still searching decided on a destination after a little deliberation, and stuck her hands in her pockets to warm them again. She stepped over a few snow drifts, which were growing quickly, and headed away. To the cemetery.*

It was dark and silent on Ludlow Street that cold winter night. Not a sound could be heard through the falling snow, for there was no movement to be heard. Everything was still- from the cars and bikes to the running children. They were resting and silent. But not the boy who was becoming frantic.

He was moving as fast as his long legs would carry him, looking from house to house for any one that seemed familiar. He had to find someplace to stay so he could survive the storm. He knew it. But there was nothing he could do. He would not approach a house that he did not know, not when he was weak with cold, and his only hope was in an unknown location in this unfamiliar town.

He knew that the girl he loved could be anywhere in Greendale. She could be on any street, in any house, or not even there at all. She could be at a relatives house in some far away city, or on vacation somewhere. The boy who was becoming frantic knew that his chances of finding her were slim, but he hoped that his training would help him survive until he found her. He knew that not giving up was stubborn and obdurate, but he didn’t care.

The boy who was becoming frantic found it harder and harder to keep a grip on reality as his nerves began to numb themselves. He prayed that his girl was safe, and began to feel dizzy as he rushed aimlessly to the end of the street.

The boy who was becoming frantic began to slow slightly when he saw a sight that he knew couldn’t possibly be true. Standing in front of him, crouched in front of a snow drift, stood the girl he loved. In front of the cemetery.*

It was dark and silent at the cemetery that cold winter night. Even the ghost that people were sure walked the grounds were sleeping peacefully in their beds of dirt deep under the ground. They were at peace at last. But not the girl who couldn’t believe her eyes.

She was staring in utter disbelief at the boy she loved, who had appeared from down the street, shivering and looking confused and lost. She wondered how long he had been in the cold, and knew that he needed to get inside. He would probably already get sick. She knew it. But there was nothing she could do. She needed to get him to her house immediately and just hope for the best.

She knew that it was going to be hard to get him there in his condition. She took one of his arms over her shoulder and supported as much of his weight as she could and tried to get him to walk again. The girl who couldn’t believe her eyes realized with a jolt that his eyes were glazing over, and he was likely to pass out from the cold. She took off her coat and wrapped it around his shoulder. It was too small for him, and was no longer keeping her warm, but she didn’t care.

The girl who couldn’t believe her eyes half walked, half carried the boy she loved down street after street, talking to him and keeping him awake, though only just barely. She prayed for his life as they made painfully slow progress.

The girl who couldn’t believe her eyes sighed in relief as she turned the last corner, and was greeted by a sight that warmed her to the core. Her home.*

The girl in the large brick house on the corner pulled the boy she loved up the stairs and into the house, unlocking the door and making more noise than she had hoped. She ignored her parents’ angry words as she pulled the violently shuddering boy into the bathroom and stripped him of his shirt, shoes, and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. The girl turned the water on in the shower as warm as she thought he could stand it and pushed him under the spray, wincing at his moans of pain as the feeling returned to his limbs. Her parents continued to yell, and she realized for the first time that she was crying.

The girl began to explain to her parents that she had known he was hurt, and that he needed her help. She told them in a very calm, very strong voice that he was not leaving her room tonight and that was final. She knew that it wasn’t likely that he would be alive if it wasn’t for her breaking curfew, and she was ready to accept any punishment they were going to give her. As they stormed off to bed, forbidding that he slept in the girl’s bed, she turned back to the boy she loved, taking his hand as his shaking ceased.

“I love you, Jeremy,” she told him, staring into his eyes.

“I love you too, Maddy,” he replied, smiling at the girl apologetically. She smiled at him and turned off the water, handing him a towel and a pair of boxers that he could wear for the night. She averted her eyes as he changed and laid his clothes out to dry. She then took his hand and led him up the stairs to the bedroom that she called her own, kicking notebooks and pictures out of the way to make a path to the bed.

The boy refused to sleep in her bed at first, in accordance with her parents’ wishes, but in the end agreed, due to the girl’s innocent look of sadness. The girl curled up next to him under the warm blankets, and he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her softy, once one the cheek, and once on the lips. He then pulled her close, and she smiled, snuggling up to him and taking in his scent. Together, they fell asleep, warm, comfortable, and completely safe.